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Yeah, yeah, check it. |
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Love, I get so lost |
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Lost as Mathew Fox |
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Sad dude in a bad mood rising |
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Bad mood, feelin' down |
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Bad music |
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Call him in Neptunes |
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'Seein' Sounds' |
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Down like a running back needed ground |
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bit my tongue, bleeding mouth |
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Got red drippin' on my new sneaks |
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Slipped on my two feet |
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Toes in the air |
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I'm livin' on a nude beach |
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And everybody here's in a two peice |
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While my souls bare |
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"Boobies" |
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Spelled on a calculator... |
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True School rapper with middle school humor |
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Old School like Will Ferrel with no school tutor, real |
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It's not a tumor |
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That was a flat out rumor |
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My head never swelled |
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But you assume the ballooned |
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Mind-state will inflate into Myspace |
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At a high rate |
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It makes me irate |
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My module is lunar |
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And needs a tune up |
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Makes it hard to drive straight |
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Imagining gravity-defying happenings installed under my driveways |
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Parked sideways for more than four out of five days |
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The other two have slipped up, ablaze |
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Now twist-up, the high-grade, my mind mixed-up |
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And phased out my faith and turned it into doubt, I'm out |
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We are the ones, that you are not |
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You are the ones, we will never be now |
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It's the, Mister North of the 49, spit up |
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The sort of rhymes, you can borderline picture |
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Storytime, Slick Rick meets Mordechai Richler |
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On point like a porcupine prickler |
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Yeah, I put it down break ground like quakes |
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Shake your beaker off the scale overweight |
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Heavy-hitter with the switch-stance 34 waist |
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Always drop on the buttons and I'm stayin' in shape |
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And I'm Shad, you can add a "K" if you wish to |
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Official scatterbrain, East of Adelaide I miss you |
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I get Live like Saturday Night, no issue |
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Now that's all that I have to say, Rizzle who is you? |
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Now I'm the mystery hidden in the riddle within the puzzle |
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Dealing with the issues on delivery, critical |
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I'm quick, on the uptake Relic fits rally |
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On the status updates, we're the ones you must rate 'cause... |
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We are the ones, that you are not |
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You are the ones, we will never be now |
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(x2) |
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A nice lady, take her out for a nice meal like veal |
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(Clubbin'?) Nah, too loud and too crowded |
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It's not Two-thousand and Nine, B |
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I ain't 19, I ain't waitin' in no line; please |
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It's boring as pourin' over rhyme schemes |
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And cats grindin' tryin' to be the last sign like Pisces |
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I'm not Chinese, but I like me some light chi iced tea with pearls |
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Find me on a nice beach doin' Tai Chi with girls |
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And it's likely that I might see the world off of rappin' these bars |
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It's a trick passin' these stars in a casting call for the acting captain in charge |
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I'm the black Captain Picard... |
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Sergent of the rebel army, charming as a devil with hustle on the level of Barney Rubble on Red Bull |
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A vessel at the end of the day, I'm not the bee's knees, |
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Only need knees to bend them to pray |
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Break bread with the saints, for the sake of having bread during the wake |
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This here's a full-time work group |
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And virtue is on-and-off of the church pew |
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Searching you find, |
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before this verse through, find the merch booth spend some time (ow!) |
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(Chorus to outro) |